Warfare Log: Drew Near
by FaZe Jedi
Summary: As it stood as the ancient legend before the Ghosts, we acquire such imperious knowledge which demands explanation. Let us dive into this emotional war, and discover the past of Ghost.
1. Prologue: Additional Brevity

_It_ _was_ _different time, a different enemy. Sixty men, from Tier One teams were sent to face a force of five hundred enemies. Their objective was to defend a hospital where the occupants were kept alive. _

_For three whole days they held their place, but the enemies' numbers were too great. Sixty were cut to fifteen. They wouldn't be able to survive long and the enemies knew it. Under the cover of darkness, they evacuated the hospital, sending only one of their own to lead the way. The rest returned in the line, and took positions beneath the bodies of their fallen brothers. _

_As they lay in wait, the blood from the dead poured over them; the sand stuck to their skin like a shroud; changing them, anointing them. When the enemy drew near, the remaining fourteen rose out of the desert sand. They were like hunters that couldn't be seen, using stealth, which their enemies couldn't defend against. When the men were dry of ammunition, they used their blades, and when the blades ran dull, they used their bare hands. When the dust and sand had settled, only one of the enemies had survived. He was picked up in the desert, wandering aimlessly, traumatized. He expressed warnings to others of a force, so menacing and unbeatable; it could only be described as supernatural. He called them: "Ghosts…" _


	2. Prequel: Indirect Boon

Warfare Log: Drew Near: Prequel

This was the ancient soldiers before Ghosts, and how they overcame their enemies. I am Elias Walker, and I stood with my team in the clash. This existed as a prequel to the Ghosts, a rumor that remained spread and the legend it situated in. Our consistence of fighting prepared us unstoppable, slaying through the waves of enemies. Our sweat of demise was chilling, and our mates were falling. There were dissimilar squads, and one of them stood as us, the next generation. Simon, Rakesh, Sam, Ajax, Keegan, Merrick, Kick, Rorke, Wilson, Jackson, Siris, Alex, and me, Elias.

We fought control over this battle, discovering what we possibly could and fought with it. Our lives were determined by this cantankerous war, and this remained only the beginning of us, the Ghosts. We may ask these irrelevant consequences, but deal what is in front of you. Siris acquired our minds, replying with his sophisticated mentality. He stood his dignity, fighting for the domination point, and remaining as our representation.

We were being escorted to the field, the place near Middle-Way, and the residence where we ought to defend our occupants, whom lived in the infirmary.

But now, as I observe to the past, I've been reminded by Siris, "check behind you, when you don't feel safe." Now, I appreciated that. The place specified as Hillside, placed right in the middle of Atlantic Ocean, and an island where we relocated, and escorted.

You wonder upon the questioning of why or how I remarkably replaced myself there, but I simply stood as a Tier One Reinforcement Troop, thus I intended to be deployed anywhere on the globe. Same applies to my teammates, but now as I perceive my old imaging at back, there were differences.

Our goal quantified as to reach the building, and preserve it from the thus called federations. We simply were told not acquiring our own personal perspective on the war. Relocating and voyaging with a helicopter may simplify itself as entropy.

_"__Soldiers, this is one hell of a battle. Issued under the commissioning in on the land of Hillside, they require defenses from our enemies which we call as federations. Get your gear, capture your mind, and move out."_

A desire for one last shot within the firing range acquired a piece of apprehension in my mind, and thus my life turned.


	3. Chapter 1: Initiation of Entropy

Chapter 1

Life is a stranger to us. We had not explored the offers of it. What we identify is just a slice of a whole cake. And what the cake is…? It is oblivion. How do we actualize such inappropriate meaning of life? And how do we repair it? Simply assumed, we don't. We deal with it…

"Chopper One-Seven, Team Alpha ready for takeoff."

"Roger that, Command GHO, Team Alpha for go-run!"

The helicopter acquired its delight, and hovered off to the sky. We installed inside it, observing the close-end views of the ocean. "What was the last time you've seen ocean, Elias?" Rorke inquired.

"Maybe when my two sons were born."

"Oh yeah, I remember those two little fillies. Reminds of youth", Merrick interrupted.

The conversation progressed to develop in a personal way, thus I changed the format. "Guys, why is this place called Hillside?"

"I assume as it remains as an island, although turned to numerous monarchies?" replied by Siris.

"We have Command PN there, working with the Phantoms", Keegan reminded.

Way there fingered edgy and felt as it was our last trip before demise. The sense of decease remained sturdy, receiving into my nostrils. "S*** is going to go down, guys", I joked, relieving myself from pressure.

"I can feel it too. I think we are not the only Alpha Team that was sent."

"Yeah, there were sixty men sent to there."

I attached my eyes on Siris, who remained sitting silently over the dark corner of the helicopter. "Siris, what are you doing?" Ajax yelled, noticing my presence on Siris.

"Huh, nothing. I… um… just thinking."

He acquired an anxious image on his face. He's acting extraordinarily for today, and his face felt uncomfortable. "What's wrong?" I probed.

"Well, this war isn't about defending that hospital, it is something deeper. I had gathered some Intel over this site, and it seems to be ruled by five empires. This is a war between four empires, as the fifth stayed silent. We are defending the fifth, as its name is Middle-Way. The attackers seem unnatural, as it is federations, the north side."

"Why is it unnatural?" I queried.

"Well, you see, the sickbay locates at the south part, against Middle-Way, and so the northern section has to roll around… I assume that the hospital's surroundings are crucial for the federations, as it seems to be one of its types."

"Oh-really, Siris? You're just being superstitious", Sam joined.

"Guys, screw you…" Siris felt apprehensive, and declined for further chatting.

Silence once again fell into this impractical chopper. I did not mangle myself in previous fights, but apprehension is intolerable.

"Dude, I think this won't end well. This seems like our last fight-"

"Never say that!" I yelled at Rakesh, with his skin reflecting light from the window.

"We may never create a guess or assume our destiny, but sometimes the punitive truth makes you insecure", Siris spoke, his voice unsteady.

"Maybe you're right, Siris, but maybe we are hesitating to take the god damn shot! Remember the guys before us? The whole team got taken out by one single sniper", I indicated a clear point.

"This certainly progresses no sense to me… Why are you guys arguing anyway?" Simon clustered his ammunition, taken my word in.

"Well, excuse me, Ghost Man, but why the hell does Rakesh think we are going to die?" Wilson yelled at the back of the helicopter.

"This is getting pretty interesting", I heard Keegan's whisper, followed by Ajax's words.

"Can we just stop for a moment and ask ourselves: What is wrong with society!?"

"Let's just focus on the battle arena, as we don't even know the arrangements made on it", Rorke commanded, pulling out a map from his backpack. We examined it, seeing the center of the whole zone. Large, few hundred meters on one edge, filled with structures which surrounded a large palace, and an infirmary aside it, and other evacuated buildings, surrounded by mountainous hills, but as we examined closer to the border of the town, we noticed the desert surrounding the area.

"That's bad, as our Fire-team cannot hurry back as they spot the enemies on the mountains", I announced. This is a crucial part to play in the battle.

"Team Alpha, seven hours till drop-off point, get ready", the lights flickered green to the announcement. "What was our motto here?" I inquired.

"I think the codename was "Salvation, but the motto was "Karma, or somewhat like that", Rakesh mentioned. I could sense my heartbeat, pounding in my gradually failing chest, and I could sense the dread on the broken field. Area where we were supposed to defend remained surrounded by mountains, generating an awkward position on planting the mines. This plan wasn't as successful as we alleged it to be, but nevertheless worse. Unfortunately, Phantoms weren't involved with our fight — with our mercenaries…

Mercenary: _Are we just a people who fight for this land, or are we just mercenaries? Men, who fight, called as soldiers but it does not affect it at all. We are dubious, not unrelated. How is that? We share the same path of life, though we did not have our rights. My line here is to inquire something from you: Are you same…? Are you same as us? I suppose not, but ask one more time when you see your loved ones, and show dignity for yourself. We are mercenaries…_

_Tier One: Simon, Alpha Squad: Vector CQC; 'Silence'_

Marksmen:

What an immortal power has maintained its dignity... These men are named marksmen, or in common cases: Snipers. They are equipped with a massive powered sniper rifle for long-range distant shooting with such immortality. They strike fear into their enemy with their irregularity, and thus, following something announced as destiny. They have achieved a high milestone, and we need to appreciate their work. In-depth, these men are immortal, nevertheless rather dull in close range, but their rife will be buried next to their grave… "As Legends…"


	4. Chapter 2: Inquiry Acquired

How our lives organized in this persecuting chopper? Rakesh, he stood as a recruit, arrived from Britain, fighting as a freedom fighter. Sam, he critically remains a citizen of the Hillside, but serving for the army. Myself, Elias Walker, serving for my country. "A man who loves his country does not only give his own life, he gives his sons'." But now, beholding in front of us remains a dimly lit future, glaring at our exam for wherever we arrive at. We fought over our lives, but we have never completed anything: Elias

"Team Bravo, clear flares for landing."

Our chopper departed from US, to the middle of Atlantic Ocean. It stood as a hazy moment, as the sun commenced to settle behind the horizon. Others were in front of our schedule, inspecting our defenses. "Time's up, guys. Let's make this hellhole a better defensive system", Rorke commanded. He was our operation leader, or the Squad Brigadier.

"Copy that, sir. Checking east barriers."

Siris hopped out of the chopper without notification, and had unsettled me in numerous ways. It disturbed me the fact that Siris appeared impatient. He existed as a persistent man, enduring for orders, and creating perfection. "Siris, where do you think you're going?" Rorke shrieked, serving maps to us.

"I'm leaving", he responded with a silent feature on his face with an anxious look and quite… impatient.

"What is wrong with him?" Rakesh screeched at the back.

"I don't want to guess, but he is a dynamic man."

He stood as a misleading man, varying dramatically during his periods.

The town remained quite immense, as it stood as a consistent city. A palace indicated on the atlas, at the center, amongst an evacuated building and with the hospital beside it. "That hospital there is where the occupants live. They did not have time to evacuate, so we need to block the attacks", Rorke announced. I acknowledge that I am ignorant of the importance of this situation, but it truly may be our last hours. "Salvation is our keyword, so keep it in mind!"

Taking my unsure armament, regardless of its source, I shoved a magazine into the clip, and pulled the iron. It flinched as my assault rifle, took its sound, reacting with a firm recoil. "Really, Elias? Is this true, that you don't even know how to reload a weapon?!" Rorke commented.

"Jesus, I have never used an AR! I have only worn submachine guns!"

I left with a shook on my head, and worked toward the town, checking for our likenesses of victory.

The town is mostly keyed by the palace and the hospital. I stood agonized by the pain on my right shoulder as I removed rocks, blocking streets since of the vehicles as such. My weapon sprung against my shoulder, creating a small crack sound. "Ah! Fu-u-u!"

"What's wrong?! You okay, mate?" Rakesh relocated toward me. "Oh no…" he silenced.

"What is it?" I inquired, anxiously.

"Have you ever been shot here?"

"Yeah… Like twenty-one times", I replied.

"I think we have a huge issue right now… Medic!"

I remained disoriented as few medics took me toward a camp, just beside the Palace. This is consequence of my last act.

I situated to be taken by few men, steadily to a tent, only realizing that I was dripping blood. And suddenly, the pain hit me. I stood in agony as I was put onto a bed, my face covered behind sheets. They removed a layer of my skin out from my shoulder, and in disgust, I felt a purging urge coming out of my stomach. I held it back, and steadied myself.

"You okay, Elias?" Siris sat next to me.

"What did they take out from my shoulder?"

"Nothing, just… debris", he answered.

"Tell me more about your friend — about Hale", I asked him shivering with the pain. I felt his face twitch, and his limb stretch. It is an unrelated question, although he had discussed about him, and acquired information about him.

"He is a member of the royal family."

"What royal family?" I reacted.

"He is a part of the royal family, and I somehow contacted him as he was moving."

"Okay… Basically he is your friend." I did not recognize his personal life, but requesting about it may just depress him. I handled a dizzy urge, and collapsed to the bed. Blood loss? Closing my eyes, I felt a sharp pain, striking just in my shoulder, bouncing upside down.

"What!" I screamed. I perceived an image of a medic, stitching my shoulder up.

"Calm down, Elias. Just some medication", the medic replied with a sudden grin. I chuckled back at him.

As I specified, this game remained about endurance, survival, and destruction.

I rose out of the bed afterward of the stitching. He had completed decent work. I shook it, discovering no improvement whatsoever. One occurring grabbed my mind, and that stood as Hale. _Who is he?_ I questioned such matter, but no avail, I am done with it. Gradually pacing up with my haste, this convenient defense existed not to hold much force. The town's defense mainly prepared of wooden barriers and sandbags. Sandbags built on top of each other. They could hold fewer rounds than expected, but eventually breakup. This stood as a peace before storm.

"Gather up, guys!" Rorke yelled, congregating all of us, including several other squads. "NAME!" Rorke bawled for the first soldier standing beside us.

"Name's Noah, Tier One Soldier, Bravo Squad, and Codename: ARX-160; 'Bloodlust'!" he cried out, presenting insignificant fear.

Next he arrived at my stop, and pitched me with his weapon. "Really, Rorke?" I sarcastically responded. "Copy that, Elias", he shoved me an appearance of concern, and stimulated to the next one. "Name!?"

"Dude, I am at the same squad as you, Rorke!" Jackson hit him with an annoyance. "Name!"

"Jackson, Tier One, Alpha Squad, and Codename: MK-16; 'Machine-Gunner'!"

I could sense the pressure he had been given, but this remains as war, and no one could endure without a force of any kind. "Gentlemen!" Rorke shout at us with an inconsistent expression. "Our mission is to protect the civils inside this hospital, and if we fail it, our dignity will be burned!"

"YES SIR!" we responded with a rapid shock. _Not much is left of us, as we will die one by one till we run out of bodies._

Sun has established behind the horizon, and the sky darkened. We would ultimately fall insensible. This was Day Zero, and addition to that, I could envision misery approaching toward us, and hiding behind a corner, awaiting us to discover its presence. "Elias, let's get to a nearby camp. We have job to do, so we better get some rest!" Siris yelped.

"Ok, move out. Actually, no. Let's move inside the hospital, and we'll defend it inside, so they cannot surprise us."

"Suppose so, although we already have few men inside it. Let's move the whole squad."

Eventually the sun had vanished with its rays, and thus we were privileging the building's second floor, inspecting outside. Our whole squad relocated, and we found our presence in the interior of the hospital, occupying an area.

There were three floors, marked with their coordination maps. We occupying the second floor, and our night watch stood as Simon. "Ok, I'll take the sniper rifle, you guys go to sleep", Simon adjusted the sight of the rifle.

I dragged my bed sheet above my unmarked torso, slightly creeping over my neck. Comfortable? Certainly not, as the ecological issues — it created a dehydrated environment.

It lay over my head — the air. It provided me the intelligence of terror, and the alarming decease of us. Our lives had been broken and shattered, shooting past our head. What is this significance? What happened to our thoughts? What is our purpose?

We had no time to request such interrogations, as our time stood consecutively disappearing out. I placed my head low to the concrete ground, and locked my eyes.

"Hey, wake up!" Simon whispered at me with anxiety.

"What? It's not at the day yet…" I comprehended the reality, as something stood ongoing. "Ok, what?"

"Rorke wants to see us."

If it was Rorke, it demonstrated frustration. He is a tight man.

We strolled out and away from a door, ambling toward a parallel wall in the corridor. Assuredly, we turned right, straight into a room with lighting. Rorke stood at the desk, patiently and tolerantly, followed by Rakesh and Siris.

"You arrived… finally", Rorke conquered my mind with his words.

"Rorke, the hell is going on?!" I enquired, demanding for explanation.

"Elias, calm down. We are planning our defense, that's all."

"So?"

"Come here, we'll need to discuss about the marksmen. Our troops are forming a circle around this palace, and protecting the hospital. Our marksmen will take their position at the north, covering the passage to here. On the mountains, we have several Fire-team squads, watching the position. If we recognize any authorized threat, we'll hide inside these buildings, and flank them from behind while enemies are searching."

"Sounds like a plan", Simon replied.

I glanced at Rakesh, who had worn an army cap on his head. The time is indistinct, enduring, and anxious. There were clusters of decease in this gap of period, and where we fell in. Rorke, Simon, and Siris dismissed the room, leaving me and Rakesh behind. Air remained motionless, and our minds were perplexed. "Rakesh…" I muttered.

"Yeah?"

"Who are you…?"

"Codename: PDR-C; 'Liberty'."

"No… Where are you from?"

"I-"

"Don't lie", I concerned about him. He situated as an astonishing man…

"I'm from England", his voice toned like a tune. "... I became a freedom fighter, and joined this group…"

I alleged his every move; even unnoticeable elements were now unblemished. "I lost almost everything… But I kept going." The air attracted my notion, and his words were vibrant. Something crystal like dropped from his eye.

"Really, Rakesh? You're twenty-one, and what are you doing here, crying? Stop weeping and deal with what is in front of you."

"Screw you, Asshole." I was getting hatred?

"Really-y? Get your ass back to the point before I rip it off! Go!"

He ran off into the distinct corridor. The room stayed mute — so still that my auricle pains. As I announced, we were at the second floor. This all remained as a simplified masquerade, from which we hide ourselves from, sheathing behind it.

I slipped back to our room. _They said that peace was a submission, but that saying was a lie._ I crossed the corridor, back to my chamber. Everyone slept together in a large, squared room. I positioned down to my own bed, lying comfortably on my left shoulder.

As my mind leisurely stole off, I perhaps distinguished far more destined futures. Tomorrow is the hell, and sure… Why not…? What usually acts is our mates go down one by one, me standing and viewing the flames exhale to a supreme phase. I personally find difficulties to sleep during the finest hours. It is the commencement of the war, and I casually develop agitated emotions throughout these periods.

I pledged to my unconsciousness, noting myself in a cold war, fighting against other individuals. "Every man for himself!" I heard my officer scream behind the scenes of a gunshot. Therefore, stood in front of me were several men, holding their rifles, and screaming toward me. They came closer, and I recognized them: Siris, Ajax, and others… They held their barrel at my direction, muttering against my ears. "Guys, it's me, Elias!" I replied, not sharp about the consequence. "See you later, federation asshole!" They aimed at the point of my head as I scavenged for cover. I found nothing around me, as it remained pitch-black. Just white all around this room of infinity.

"Guys, no!" I resisted hard, as a usual human being would.

They shot, the bullet penetrating my stomach.

I awakened up sweating all over myself, noting the dawn of the sunlight. "Day One", I mumbled to myself, astounded by the environment.

Desert Eagle:

A modern handgun, manufactured similarly to US designs, but originated in Israel. High standard issued handgun, with a power of breaking few unexpected bones with its Stopping Power. Its high-power action comes from the .50 Action Express cartridges, and resembles high recoil power. It would effortlessly corrupt your bones if not held in the right position. (This certainly is not a toy you'd want in your hand, but in which cases it will end up there somehow.) In-depth, it is an accurate piece of armament, and with its high-power, comes with high responsibility.


	5. Chapter 3: Inequity

Held constricted around my fingers stood my rifle, but why is it? Why had we confirmed that peace is a submission, and not the actuality? Is our world therefore desperate for this eternal fight? This remained my own Nightmare Room, and thus on… Held tight around my fingers was my rifle, and I took close aim on the enemies. In my dream I was shot, but in real-life they are successfully to be intoxicated with my bullets. Magazine remained damp as water stood around my fingers: Phantoms

"What is going on?" I questioned, as I took my head for my control.

"Guys! Get up, we have job to do before fighting! First: Rebuild the barrier, and keep the federations at far! Second: Survive and kill. Remember: This game is about endurance! Third: We wait for the night, and then we'll burn their camps. 'Sabotage' is our keyword!"

Mission stood specified, and thus I removed myself from the reserved floor, and raised my armament. Although we may desire to acquire our refueling, since we were quite famished. It stayed crucial to our everyday routine, as our body requires training.

We dispelled ourselves toward the first floor. We sauntered, but I noted several individual rooms, where I avowed that I sighted glimpses of a human as such. Of course, as this remains as an infirmary, therefore it requires its occupants. But that relevance demoralized me, and provided me a firm chill on my back.

This place is quite anxious, agile, and _fragmental_. Not the way in reality, but in my own mind. It stood inverted…

Showing with portions of fear and terror, we descended and relocated to the first floor. It stood just a long corridor that delivered me an alarming attention, and doubting any presence around me. Hospital's walls were crazed and white, distinguishing insufficient elements of this entire construction. Even the staircase remained considered as non-natural. Someway my teammates managed to notion my unsettling mind. "Are you ok, Elias? You seem pretty sick…"

"I'm fine…"

"Your face is pale", Jackson commented.

"This hospice provides me a notion of illness", Siris joined.

"Really, Siris? Really?" I replied.

We continued to pace down against this never-ending stairway.

As a consequence of the staircase, we stood before a large hall-like room, with scarcer exclusions. It remained enormous, that was factual, but these carved walls distributed me a sensation of disproportion.

In a sudden of despair, I fell to my knees, leaving me hanging beside a table. I focused to grip onto an object in a rapid motion, and acquired a hold from the edge of a table. My head was pounding, and my limbs were in a painful gesture. "You ok, Elias? We'll need to get you a doctor", Ajax yelled at my ear as I pulled myself into control.

He grabbed me from my back, pulling me upward with a force. My intestines were in a peculiar form as I felt it burn hard against my chest. This certainly remained as a skeptical hallucination, as I felt what indeed pain specified. The agony remained alike a shot through my torso, allowing me to collapse against this table. "Guys, just go on. I'm coming after."

"No, Elias. You're not alone", Siris whispered.

"In war you would not say that", I insisted.

"We all would, Elias. We were known because of this sentence: For what you leave behind cannot be more precious than what you acquire nowadays", Rorke explained.

"Just go!" I shrieked with a disquieting sound.

They turned their back against me, and thus I acquired peaceful solitude. I imaged this moment. _"__Life is not measured by the numbers of breath we take, but the moments that take our breath away."_

I stood there, on the ground with my knees, setting my body into function once again. Maybe it is real. No one should be left in isolation. I supposed that it remained as everyman for himself, but I acquired it incorrectly, mistaken by this trick…

Setting, letting my body relax to this condensing, and airless appearance of these walls. Maybe I could survive this cold war.

Rising myself up, depending in myself, I acquired my direction toward the diner. The air was still as typical, and _nothing_ has differenced. Only my thoughts of this hell had an alteration between my minds from hell to heaven. Typically, I would shake these ridiculous moods off, but this kept its presence around my commotion.

"Dude, come here!"

I apprehended my positioning in the infirmary's cafeteria, and thus I ambled toward a tray to yield my meal. There were long arranged tables, settled as a line. I removed my sandwich from the tray and took toward my squad's table.

"We thought you were dead", Wilson clowned.

"Ha-ha, very funny", I responded insipidly.

"Luckily this is before the sunrise, so we can build our defenses while they are working their way toward us", Rorke lucidly spoke. He remained as a clear man, always wearing a cloth, covering his head with dignity. His mind is dim, not showing its internality. He is crepuscular if I may say, but not in a way of darkness, but dubious. _When they asked why we aren't the same, we wouldn't play their game._ This world inspires many theories, but now… they didn't matter.

"So after this, we construct turrets around this refuge alike to Stone Haven?"

"Basically... yes", Rorke replied with a magnificent grin.

"What is Stone Haven?" Rakesh inquired with confusion.

"Well, you see… Stone Haven is our… The so called Safe Guard place", I whispered. Stone Haven typically remained as a fort, preserving our allies, and where we manufacture our defensive systems, and training our strongest soldiers.

Our breakfast sustained as usually, but such a way that the surroundings were immobile. What would a man say about this all-round place? I would allege as bedlam. Something remained as kept decent here, and that remained as to eat. At least we get fuelled here.

"Let's get to the field, boys!" Rorke bellowed at us as we bothered.

"YES SIR!" we responded at the same time.

"Ouch…" My head taking pain inconsistently, exiting me with a tempo of terror in my hands.

"Dude, I think you need a break."

Wilson procured me from my limb, situating me back to a sedentary position. "Thanks mate… I think I'm fine, just some leftover dread in my veins from the last fight."

"What is causing the pain?" Wilson asked.

"I see these horrifying images in my mind, printed on the back of my brain."

"What do they resemble?" he spoke with an attitude of concern.

"They seem to be death, covering the ground. I see these images of demise, painted on shattered mirrors."

"Just relax, and then get back to work."

He acquired his positioning on the field, obligating me to rest. "Better get accustomed", I thought to myself. It was full of devastating moments, and so I relocated back to the battlefield.

"Wilson, get those turrets online, and Rakesh, move those spikes there, on the crossroad!" Rorke was demanding of our work.

I stepped on the concrete ground, not noticing changes. "You're back online, Elias? Now, go check the barriers over there, east way!"

As he recommended, I sprinted comparable to a maniac, right toward a fence squaring. "I see…" I mumbled with doubt. Deftly, I perceived it as a quite decent or proper shielding device.

This fence would not hold much, but enough. We separated the outer edge of the city, and mobilized the interior parts. "Good to go!" I yelled at Rorke.

"Good! Get back here!"

I sighted a map on his hand, presenting few marks randomly.

"The Hospital is Point Bravo. The Palace is Point Alpha, and the Crossroad is Point Charlie. Then, you see that part there?" he said, pointing toward the eastern, screening off to the hills area. "That is the main position point, and our Fire-team position. They'll have the reports on. Now, we'll wait for the reports from the Fire-team."

Points were clarified, and the sun stood intensifying behind the horizon. Our mental war is fusing with our physical conflict. Now… we play endurance. Let's see who acquires a checkmate.

I pulled my rifle, loaded a magazine. "These NATO Rounds burst with Stopping Power. Let's see whose armor is the thickest. At least my AR500 Body Armor is ready to take few shells, and that is what I really mean."

"Elias, don't always trust your body armor, as it doesn't take all the efforts to get penetrated."

"Whatever, Siris… I moderately just like to get hit and take it as irrelevant."

Yet this day remained fairly even instigating, and I could sense detachability of this weapon and with the moments firing with them. Another hell, another life. …

"Get your fat ass over here, Elias!" Alex shouted in a grand light.

"What? Let's just get over this in a glance, please!" I replied.

"Elias, you need to shoot these targets over there!"

"What it is?"

"Five unarmed ballistic targets!"

"Why should I shoot?!"

"Because you need to get accustomed to the Assault Class!"

"Fine!" I raised my weapon, unbolting the safe. Locking it and revealing a high pitched noise, right from the middle of this aliveness. The targets were assembled from ballistic materials, as if I should state as rubber. Held tight around my fingers remained my rifle, as such; its collapsible stock was pinned on my shoulder.

"Go fully automatic, Elias", Rorke yelled beside Alex.

"Hell no!" I stated, preserving my memories, hearing fully about its consequence. This rifle was a modern build from the M4 Prototype, and named as M4A1 with few reasonable improvements.

"Wait, Elias!" Siris coped to get hold from my back just in time. "Take this silencer."

He handed in a sun-bleached silencer. I attached it tight into my weaponry, acknowledging the heaviness. Bolting it into my rifle as a mobility usage.

"Now, try it out."

I once again unbolted the safety lock, and clipped the iron. The trigger was refreshed and new, completed out of steel.

It shot… The shot penetrated the air like a Phantom. As I stated, I dare not try fully-automatic, as its recoil kicks solid against my bones.

"Where did it hit?!"

"Err… Alex?"

"Headshot!" Alex shrieked with amazement.

"Good job, Elias", Rorke stated as he would always submit.

"The fun isn't over!" I switched to full-auto, shooting with it like a madman. I wasn't overwhelmed by the recoiling force.

"It wasn't that bad, was it?"

Once again, my shots were right on the target. Sometimes, you may inquire yourself about nonsense, but sometimes you may inquire about your deft.

Kill:_ "__We shoot of our will, and we fall on our demise. We're not immortal, nor invincible. Let us fight, and let us see how we survive. Show me your force in war… In the art of war. Fight as mercenaries, fall like irrelevance. So, take that rifle, and put some holes into another being with your will. You have your own consciousness, and you decide if you want slay._

M4A1:

M4A1 is issued as a standard military assault rifle, originated and developed in US. In my theory, it is the light-weight assault classing, firing 5.56 times 45mm NATO cartridge rounds. It has a medium-high rate of fire with moderate bullet damage. Based on few attributions, it is calculated to be the most accurate weaponry, with a small amount of recoil. It is one of the most astonishing pieces of armaments, showing off its acquirement on damage and on accuracy. In-depth, it is ballistic.


	6. Chapter 4: Obscurity

So… A war is coming, but we have prepared for the incident. Now, we see who can endure themselves with this power, and set this burning fire on. Who cares…? We don't… We are just mercenaries. We fight for our lands, and develop our own confidence. We've experienced more than we could imagine. Tight situations, attacked in the wild, getting blown up accidentally. Yes… we have knowledge. Now, we take it to a further stage, and tight up our shoe, and move out.

"Fire-team Squad 0-1, reporting into position. We spot several individual squads incoming up, east section. Authorized threat discovered, take positioning. Repeat, authorized threat discovered."

Finally, this war has instigated, and we celebrate for our last moment. We raised our glass high to the sky. "Last moment, guys! Celebrate for our last life!"

"We are a team, and we shall die together!"

"By the way, are we on our own, since command stated that everymen for himself."

That was quite conspiring. If we were on our own, then we cannot stand for ourselves, which is quite conspicuous to our command.

"Command stated that we are authorized to call air support, but cannot request for backup."

We weren't able to endure such guilty war. Our command weren't supposed to see us after this, were they? We were doomed to our sympathy, and follow orders alike soldiers. We were mercenaries.

"Sentry gun offline! We'll hide into a building before the federations arrive. Move your asses! These high standard armories will be located on the roofs, and watching over!"

The road was from side to side on west to east, with a crossroad amongst the hospital and the palace.

"Where should we go?"

"Let's get into this building here", Siris pointed at a construction, which had a window pointing north, but located at south way from the road. In a rapid sense, we relocated toward the small structure.

"Take this, Elias!" Rorke threw me an electronic device, joined similar with a modern tablet. "Call air supports in. They need some preparations."

"I really hope they don't have any vehicles…"

"Negative, Elias. Fire-team spotted over fifty or so armored machine-gun vehicles."

"We're f***ed…" Ajax screamed behind the road.

Air suddenly iced with few thick layers of viscosity. "Reports: Four men on the Fire-team. Thirteen men on us. Five men on Mortar Squad. Three men on Sniper Squad. Twenty men on Bravo Squad. Fourteen men on Charlie Squad. One Lieutenant by himself."

We have sixty mercenaries on our whole war, but facing an outnumbered enemy of five hundred. This is an imbalanced war. Belligerently we fight, but we'll lose ourselves. No, we cannot survive this war. Sixty men… we should have ten defensive forces. Hard to believe about our discipline, but how are we going to conquest this solid land?

"No matter what we fight for, we'll lose ourselves in the end", Siris muffled.

"Siris, we are not robots. We make our own decisions and survive on our own. Remember, teamwork."

"Guys, don't overreact on such guilty mutter", Rakesh spoke.

"What do you care, Rakesh?"

"You don't even know how many sacrifices I've made…"

"At least not more than Siris! YOU don't even know how much his mind had been broken down by brute force."

"War is hell, our lives are burned. Cards are turned, and so we are dead", he replied.

"Nope, Rakesh. Cards are not turned yet. We still have sixty armed forces, and five Artillery Support cards. So… Tell me how we spend them. And yes, we have a Ninja in our squad."

"Who the hell is he?!"

"You don't need to know yet, as he is our critical support device. And no, I'm not a geek."

Our sentry weaponry were set on rooftops and pointed directly at the streets. But now they were offline, bend into a small shelter, unseen by the enemies. They were armed with a large Gatling Weaponry with laser pointer as their sight. Oh, we'll see who's going to survive the shooting… We'll see.

"Guys, cover this window with some small barriers."

Our plan remained as to deflect our enemies' attention, and let the town quiet. "Alpha Squad, ready on point. Everyone, find cover. Flanking Position 1-5, 1-6, and point Bravo", Rorke reported.

Jackson took a wooden barrier, bolting it into the window. "Everyone, get in here!"

Everyone strolled into the small house-like building. The insides were evacuated, disordered, and turned upside-down.

Taking our step for a closer observation, we hid behind the window, spying outside. This certainly was not the moment, thus we put our gear for preparation. "Guys, get your gear ready! We will engage with approximately fifteen minutes. Repeat, get your ass on position."

My rifle, hung on my shoulder. It felt good… Like a medication, offering you another taste to sooth yourself.

"Who is the Lieutenant, Elias?" Kick requested.

"Err… He's an experienced man, supervising us."

"Codename?"

"Lieutenant 2nd Class: Noel, Codename: P90; 'Velocity'. He's a Recon Class."

"Oh… So… he's not going to judge the hell out of us like that last Lieutenant, right?"

"I consider so, but don't get your feelings on."

Engagement would initiate, and therefore, we'll create casualties.

"Simon, get to the rooftop. Get your sniper with you, and you'll shoot on our mark, roger?!"

"Copy that, over."

On my perspective, Simon became released from his pressure.

I could feel this apprehension magnifying behind my skin and the wind outside received high with its force. Now, we'll wait for this demise. Last part before killing. The Finest Hour…

From far apart in the hills, I could distinguish dots, moving toward us. They were here, and they were about to murder us.

P90:

A submachine gun, commonly used for defensive circumstances, but as such, it is a piece of war. Don't be fooled by the bull-pup design, as it is formed due to the high ammunition capacity. It originated from Belgium, making its way on the weapons' leaderboard. It fires the 5.7 times 28mm cartridge with rapid-fire. It is a high-fire rate armament, with a healthy capacity of fifty sized magazine. In-depth, it is fast, "like a boss."


	7. Chapter 5: Mercenaries

What was our mission? Yes, we had to defend our position between ourselves, but what truly was our mission? To kill, or to defend? How were we supposed to define these matters? In our depth, we could sense our failure beyond our soul. We have fought over ourselves, but turning to fiends…? No… In the noon, we hid amongst the structured buildings, waiting for our flanking action. Weren't we able to relocate? Let us find out whose destiny has been saved. We've been abandoned by our own people, fighting on our own. It is everymen for himself: Jackson

The ground is deceased as we lay wait. Our group felt silent, as anxiety took our destiny. Our voyage had begun. Let us define the matters that were here.

"I hear engines. They're here…" Ajax scrolled over to me.

"Prepare for the worst, guys. But remember: we are not monsters…"

Siris stood at the window, observing outside. "Any negative signs?" I inquired.

"Negative, Elias. It seems quite… still", he replied.

Then a gunshot penetrated the still air, and the distinguished guests arrived. "Ok, they're here. This is Alpha Squad, preparing for enemy engagements. Repeat: prepare for engagement. On my mark, we'll give 'em hell, over."

"Copy that, Alpha Squad. This is Mortar Strike, ready on your mark."

"Roger in, Alpha. Bravo Squad on the go. Ready when you are."

"This is Charlie, reporting for engagements. Let's have 'em dead."

"Good… Let's do this, over. Marksmen on your go."

They _drew near_, and our beliefs were notable from our lives. Now, we may only desire that we weren't here… Resonances of engines, but only a minor portion of it. There mostly were footsteps, echoing from the solid street. There, in the marks on our hand, we differenced our future, and leasing ourselves in.

"Here they come. Keep quiet", Siris reported.

Then the reality hit me as I observed the enemies. There were enormous quantities of those federation-like people, who had their weaponry and blades in. No way could we encounter such force.

"Fire-team, reporting in. They've set an outpost on the eastern section, outside the mountainous areas. They have a force over five hundred. They've deployed over hundred soldiers on your position, watch yourselves."

"Copy that, over."

"So… Take this tactical?"

"No… It's all or nothing", Rorke replied.

"Team, report in. Ready when you are…"

"We all have been waiting for this s*** to happen, now let's give 'em hell."

We have seen how they've prepared for us, and currently we need to provide them all we've got. Their armory and weaponry may be overpowered; nevertheless they intend not to demonstrate a privilege, which we ensure to be cooperation.

"For our last moment", Rorke lit his cigarette, and swooped himself for provision.

"Guys, get ready for the worst. Alpha-, Bravo-, Charlie-, Mortar-, and Sniper Squad, prepare. 3, 2, 1…"

"Give 'em hell!" our Lieutenant barked in the microphone.

"Sentry ONLINE!" Rorke yelled behind us.

I sighted the sentry gun on top of the next building, bending into its position. It held its Gatling gun and stood complete for action.

For a moment, there remained silence, as I heard the heating from the weaponry. The barrel rolled on the sentry, and it shot for moments. Soldiers fell down, and it simply was infinite. Screams reverberated throughout the field, and they ceased from caring. I saw Rorke's face… It remained pale. All of us were hesitating on our next move, but no one could describe our mission. Bodies covered the sturdy ground, screams resounding through the air.

Our destiny stood no dissimilar from theirs, as on the point of the edge. Soon, our story would conclude just alike theirs, no diverse.

Finally, our sentries completed its ammunition, and were wrecked down.

The Federations retreated toward the verge of the town, backing their turn toward the east. We decided to acquire our vengeance, turn the table, and so we relocated our position.

"Squad, move out. Get to Point Bravo, and check for any unexpected company. Our occupants need to be safe, although the Federations may not recognize civilians."

And consequently we returned to the corridor, and ambled toward the streets. Rakesh dashed outside, and what we saw, remained unpleasant. Bodies hung here and there, blood dripping from the bullets. Now, it was corrupted… My gaze twisted from it, not willing to recall the misery.

Simon came subsequently after us, and the whole squad repositioned from the structure. This stood our first strategy, and each of them would end up worsened than before. "Get your rifle ready, Simon. We need to take those assholes out."

"Copy, Rorke."

We were adopting our own fight style, and taking our revenge from past mistakes of what we've done. Our rifles were hung on us, and we were traveling to the infirmary area. Suddenly, a gunshot was heard, followed by others.

"S***! This war has initiated! We need to amend ourselves! Move out to Point Bravo, and defend it!"

Finally, we arrived to our destination. "Simon, get to the rooftop and join the Sniper Guard!"

"YES!"

We continued to pack our devices, our dinners within it. This was our headquarters for nowadays. From the eastern window, I could distinguish hostile recons, shifting toward us. They held their machine weaponry, and unnoticed us. I took my own conclusion, and stuck myself onto an insignificant crack, which pointed toward them.

Certainly, they continued toward this infirmary from the southern way, not perceiving my image. My rifle's barrel protruded from the wall, pointing right toward them. I acquired a close aim, and pulled the trigger. One man fell out of their positioning; therefore, others fell back to their cover.

Rorke turned toward me with an inquiring facial feature.

"Just taking care of these guys", I replied.

He twisted away from me, acquiring ammunition and so forth.

Back against the field, Federations were on their cover. In a precise proverb, there remained two men from their unfortunate ending. My armament stood accurate and obligated of a high rate of fire, which perfected the usage of assassination.

One of those Federations pitched a grenade toward my position, exploding in front of the wall, generating a larger crack as a feature. Then, it fell down — the wall collapsed, but the building structured on itself. Just a hole on the wall, nothing to be concerned about.

"What the hell is that!?" Rorke replied unexpectedly.

"Err… grenade?"

"Keep your position, Elias, or you'll be dead."

I turned back, just slaughtered a man on his skull. He fell, collapsing on the floor.

_War is hell, so show us your power. Confirmed by our own thoughts, we slaughter without notion._

"Simon, I need help!" I yelled into the radio.

"Roger that, Elias!"

"Taking aim, bro…!" With that, a silenced shot landed onto the Federation behind the cover. "…And dead!"

"Thanks", I replied.

"No problem."

"You guys done with the loadings?!"

"Affirmative, Elias. Move to west Mortar position, and prepare for flanking."

"Ok, move out!"

We ran from the back corridor, escaping through the backup exit. Our objective is not purified… "So… northwest flanking position?"

"Yes, Elias. We'll hit them from behind."

And so our expedition continued throughout the land. Our Mortar Squad was preparing themselves with the shells, making sure aim out of our enemies.

We crossed the street to the upper side of the town, and soon we managed to establish toward the northern verge. "Ok, let's get off from the radar, and stay quiet."

Although there were no threats on the edge, we could distinguish gunfire through the initiated war. Our lives would end worsened… and our thoughts burned.

"Stick close, although this is a narrow part beside the buildings."

Our position was between few buildings, narrowing our path. Though it continued till the eastern edge, we would want shelter from the bullet storm.

"Hold your position", Rorke said while remaining still.

"Wait… I see something…" Jackson reported.

"…Get your ass into COVER!" Rorke shouted as a beam of smoke formed in the air, drumming toward Jackson.

"Man DOWN! Repeat, MAN DOWN!" Keegan screamed. I turned my face toward my teammates, and the scenery horrified me.

Jackson was hit, and dripping blood. "Simon, get YOUR RIFLE HERE!"

"Yes SIR!"

"Take that asshole out!"

From afar, other mercenaries were discovered. "Watch your position, soldier! We got Feds incoming!"

"AMBUSH!"

Our move was being tormented by our own squad. "What do we do, Rorke?"

"WE FIGHT!"

Bullets flew aside us, and gunfire slaughtered the air. "I got the sniper! He's down!"

"Good, advance!" Rorke barked.

"Negative, sir. Enemies' numbers are too great, and Jackson's hit!"

I had a plan inside my head disguised with this situation. "Guys, I got a plan. Hear me out!" The gunfight was still ongoing and Jackson remained losing blood. "Let's retreat few meters aback and move ourselves into a building through its window. What do you say? We'll have bulletproof cover!"

"Ok, let's go. Siris, you take Jackson!"

"Yes, sir!"

I covered their back, amazed by the blast completed by my rifle. It remained powerful, beaten. The thrill stood enormous, although it felt enjoyable. It pleased my hunger, shooting and killing. "Stop!" Rakesh yelled as he observed my face. "Look at yourself, Elias. Look at us… What do you see? I see misery, but you seem satisfied."

He was correct. I have transformed my style of war through myself. "Move!"

Glancing at Rorke, they busted the window, proceeding inside. Rakesh advanced toward them, thus I followed beside him.

Swiftly, I peeked back at the Federations, perceiving a crucial idea. I swiped to my pocket, feeling a sphere-shaped object. "See you in hell, jackasses…"

It was a M36 Frag Grenade. Pulling the pin, I tossed it across the air, turning my head back, and swooping toward the window. A giant explosion was followed after few seconds, and a satisfaction overwhelmed me. Maybe I am a monster after all, I just haven't found it.

I dashed into the building, inspecting Jackson's misery. "Dude, are you okay?"

"Not sure… But… you need to hear me out…"

"What is it? Just don't say it is the end. You're going to be ok."

"No… Elias. I see you as my friend, and now… I'm dying. Well… I guess this is the end…"

"Don't you dare say that, Jackson", Rorke screeched.

"This is the end. I just need to accept my destiny. But you need to know something… This is a cruel world, and you may only survive by fighting" Jackson stated.

"Jackson, I guess you've learned something after all", Siris replied.

We collected into a group, surrounding Jackson himself. "What you see is the edge of reality, and what you need is vital. This is a cruel world, followed by the fights. But you know why we fight? We fight for our freedom, and we fight for our country! What we see is the part of death, but there is beauty in this belligerence. You just have to find it by your own…"

"Siris, that was very kind of you to say that… WHILE I AM DYING!"

"It simply is something worth before death, you see…" Siris responded.

"But you know what, guys? I need to confess something before I die. Well, you see, I am a poor man, not having my own opportunities to do for this world. I always wanted a legendary death: Like getting killed by a unicorn, or kamikaze inside of a nuclear plant. But it is just too idiotic, and nonsensical. My life may not be worth anything, but here and now, we fight as brothers. But Rorke, just tell me that my life was worth something for! My loss today is changing something!"

Rorke attained on Jackson's hand and tightened around it. "Your loss today is noble, and we would always know you. You made a difference and you are worth something. You always will be with us-"

"SIR, I think… He's…"

"Did he hear my words…?"

"Affirmative, sir."

"Rest in peace, Jackson… Our mission isn't done yet, so see you in hell."

There was a moment of silence, which surrounded our souls. His life remained always worthy, and always with us.

Shots were fired on the main street, followed up by unexpected screams, screaming as if they were disemboweled. "MAN DOWN!" They yelled. Well, we got a man down… but doing nothing… just silence.

"Today we lost a soldier on field. His name was Jackson Smith, and I declare his loss. His fortune will live with us, and his soul will guard us. Let us hope the best in his afterlife. His dog tag states the following: Jackson Smith, 21 of January ****, Squad Alpha: Codename: 'Machine-Gunner'. We lost him, but we believe the best of him. As our rule states, "see you in hell", and so let it be!"

Rorke's statement was nobly done. We appreciate Jackson's loss, and we wished him the best… Hope he is still our friend…

_In the event, a fighter is executed. His remains are placed face down with his head pointed in the direction of his home, his weapon next to him. We do it this way, so when our fallen are taken to the other side… they can watch over us, and keep an eye on our enemy. Jackson was gone. Nothing could change that. But we were here… We were still here, and we still could make a difference about this conclusion — just as we were alive. _

"Jackson, I hope to see you in hell", I whispered, turning my head around.

The streets were still in mayhem, and we should clear it up. "Sir, reports are in! We suffered casualties over five men. This is critical! We cannot continue without executing our enemies with brute force!"

"Weapons free!"

Since we only had a mercenary count of sixty, we cannot have casualties over ten by one day.

Our lives are burned with the cards loosened. We were required to fight back. "Guys, come over here! I have a plan!" Wilson said abruptly. "We'll still go from the north, as I assume it is clear. We flank over from their backs and go against them from behind. But we need to be perfect at what we are doing, so use a silencer."

"Affirmative, Wilson. Sounds like a plan. Move out!"

"Not yet. I think what we just affirmed was cruel, and I assume we need a rest."

In this building, there was nothing. What we confirmed was cruelty, but essential in the war. We acquire losses, and we simply need to deal with the brutality. Fatality rate is punishing, and our lives have been changed by it. We need to play cautious.

"Mortar Squad, we need a strike on our area! Exclude several misleading accidents, just fire at the street!"

That was odd, considering the fact that Rorke never calls for backup. Our Mortar Squad wasn't active, although we've got company.

But now, condensing our powers, we had to fight back. But how? Well, we were mercenaries, and we do what we can to protect. "Let's do this, guys!"

M18 Smoke:

A modern era smoke grenade, manufactured for military purposes. Used as a protective gear, blinding enemy vision off, but at the same time your own vision will be distorted. It is an essential piece of armament as you cannot let your enemy describe your location, and instantly killing you. I would propose using it while you are capable to vision enemy position, flanking them from the edge. In-depth, it is crucial as a protection, but nonsensical in a positive way. And I am safe to assure: "Like a ninja."


	8. Chapter 6: Alacrity to Slaughter

Usage was cruel, our own teammates decease. But isn't it regular? I accuse our own intelligence that advances about this competition. Why do we keep fighting?! We are human beings, all of us. We keep the same dignity that is progressed due to our society. All of us are the same — not even _royalties_ differ. Our lives are spun by our government, but what do they do? Naught! Our blood is misused around their commands, nonsenses! And what we get? A bloody money bag! So… we took it far… and now we had to conclude it. But it was only the first direct day, which we would never forget. Our ally died… And what does he get? A funeral without burying him! What he deserved was far more advancing than ours… We have hurt each other time and time again. I guess good things come to an end. But we are not just mercenaries: Siris

The floor beneath us remained solid ground. This structure was the place where Jackson deceased. We cannot discontinue this now… There is no going back once it has taken its form. There stood no avail from this accusing knowledge.

How is this relevant action? Let me know why… Why we have to fight for our own life? We ought to keep our own vitality on our purpose. Show me your acknowledgement to this cruelty… No… it is my job to do so.

"Elias! Move out from your daydream!" Rorke bellowed from aside. This is a perplexing war… and many casualties are developed. Well, time to fight again, and take a last stand.

"Yes, Rorke. You know what is fascinating about this war?"

"Elias…?"

"Well, you may call me a monster… but I feel like to kill… to revenge."

"Elias, we feel the same", Alex commented from aside.

We have lost ourselves in this brutality, but we fight. That is the main relevance among me. "Should we move?" Ajax asked.

"Negative, Ajax. We'll need to analyze the road first."

"Streets are clear, and our position is claimed. I suggest retrying on the north side."

"Then let's move in north!"

What an efficient plan — heading back where we first lost Jackson. But we've equipped for this. We've lost men for this. "Load your rifles, put your ammos, and take your armor! Move out."

We scrolled back against the window, swooping out of it, and crashing toward the ground. "I'll cover you guys, don't worry", Alex spoke.

"Copy, Alex. We'll move toward east first, you'll come behind."

"Yes, sir!"

I sprinted, we ran, and toward east we toured. It would be occupied with enemy troops, wandering and drifting toward our position. Most effectual way to take them would be to-

"FIRE IN THE HOLE!" Rorke appropriated a grenade onto the clearing point — trailed with an explosion, casing the air with a small vapor of dust.

"That made no sense, Rorke!"

"Yes it did", he responded with a tone of misperception. The air stilled and the vision toward the end lightened yet again. Few men lied on the ground. They were caught in the middle of the dramatic detonation.

"Rorke… a 'Legend'…"

"Copy that, Elias. Information utilized."

"Move toward the east. Go behind that building!"

"Marksmen Squad, take positioning toward the east edge of our position, over."

"Marksmen ready, on your go."

"Just cover our back, and then protrude your bullet onto a target."

Now, action was increasing intensely. It is _infinity_, as this war will continue… "GO, GO, GO! Move behind their line!"

We jogged behind a building, shaping on the edge of the east. Our represented position stood amongst structures, although at the end of the vary street. No soldiers were found over the indication point. Only the backstage on the east edge remained our mobile place.

"Ok, stay silent. I want everyman to move behind my mark. Silent and stealthy."

We crossed the road, marching toward the other side. We were behind their line, absolutely.

Though it was a long-straight line, we could not distinguish objects from afar, for the reason that of the misty dust in the air. It wasn't entirely distorting our visualization, but exasperating them.

"We'll move from behind, clearing the streets, kay?"

"On the go."

Although we stimulated still behind the shadows between the buildings, distortions in the air was resilient. "My eyes! I can't see anything."

"Don't worry, Ajax. Just keep up with the group."

From behind, we shot into the dust. Although we could not hear our shots, the presence of hits remained stroked on our hand. "Pop smoke, guys. We need as much as cover as possible."

"Sir, there are too many enemies covering the street. We'll need to scare them off with their vehicles burned."

"Rakesh, you laid the spikes, right?"

"Affirmative."

"Good. Let the vehicle drive up to them and we'll call a mortar strike."

Black colored smokes were acquired, and we provided extra sheathing into the mist. We whispered unthoughtful death, and our ammunitions were fired. But we knew that our teammates were dying, and thus we could not decrease the casualties. "Second hand smoke, and keep up the team format."

We stood before a building which remained aside the street of the battlefield. Second round of smokes were tossed and frightened toward the street, and within it, we were certain to check on our indication point, and toward the crossroad.

Now, as we stalked behind our enemies, the notification of their presence was beside our mind. "Authorized threat discovered. Wait for signal mark", Rorke reported. "Ready…? shoot!"

Silencer was helping our tactics, but soon it acquired no beneficial mean. "Enemies down. Move out…" Motioning toward the crossroad, we sighted a vehicle which stood quite armored, and a well-equipped and artificial sheathing of dense armor. Beside it were few dozens of men, ambulatory upon the road. "We cannot intercept them. Let's move inside a structure for cover."

And consequently we did, direction-finding toward a building with its windows pointed at the intersection, close toward it as few ten meters. "Move in!"

We hopped into its interior, and mobile toward the transoms. I attracted a sneak peek to the street, observing the crossing. It stood empty. I glanced back at the vehicle. It remained mobile toward the section. "Pop third hand smoke. We need to check the casualties."

Smokes were flung toward the street, again, covering our entire view. "We have fifty-three soldiers, we have a Mortar Strike Team, we have a satellite which does no damn thing, and we still have ammunition."

"But look at the Feds. The Fire-team reports: Five hundred men, fifty machinegun vehicles, two outposts: one on the north, one on the east, they have a tank, and they have something else, not sure what…"

"We are literally screwed", Rakesh terrified.

"We need to take a stand, guys! We need to fight back! I am going crazy just because you don't fight hard enough!" Alex yelled.

"That's enough, Alex. You know we cannot take a stand!" Rorke commanded.

"Then I am going to hell! If you guys don't fight, then I'll fight alone!"

"Don't be so naïve…"

He hopped toward the exit, bashing it open, and ran out without cautioning. "Alex, report in!" Rorke roared into a radio.

"Contact 10-1, over."

"You asshole! You do have signal!"

_10-1: Demands bad reception or in other words: bad signal, used in the codes._

Alex ran off, functioning toward the Feds… He acquired a mental breakdown, turning irrational over our allies. We knew his fateful history, but not going over to acquire such knowledge. "Goodbye, Alex… See you in hell", I spoke.

"He ran… Standalone, I assume…"

"Good for him, but at least we're not dead." Merrick and Kick chatted aside. They were alike each other. Although our perspective was on Alex, we assumed he would die as a standalone. We would have no impression about what was upon his mind.

"Truly, see you in hell…"

"Ok, quick checkup before ongoing Mortar Strike onto the vehicle. Siris, what do we got?"

"Few dozens of smokes, few special marking smokes, ammunition load for dozens, and few Mortar Strike marking smokes."

"Ok, we'll go with the Mortar Strike, but we need to lure the vehicle", Wilson said.

"Then we will", I replied, pulling out my radio. "Alex, you copy?"

"Copy that, Asshole 7-1, over."

"Lure the machinegun vehicle over the spikes, and you'll have your vengeance."

"Roger, over. See you in hell, guys."

In the window, I could distinguish steel material. The smoke was vanishing over the field, making clarified space for air. But soon the hell rose again as Alex stood behind a building, hiding between structures. What I could differ were his hands. He seemed to twitch a pin from a grenade, but not quite pulling it over. His motion twisted toward a demonic feature as his feet dazzled over the ground, marking toward the damned vehicle. "What the hell is he doing? Not a kamikaze, I hope…" The soldiers were attracted by him, pulling out their trigger. The machinegun vehicle glanced with its weaponry toward Alex, acquiring ammunition to fire with.

"Get your ass into cover!" I barked,

He ran up-straight into a secondary cover that stood nearer the machine, which apparently was just beside the crossway. His face remained covered in dust as the machinegun was firing at his cover.

The vehicle acquired rapidly to his location, still pulling over the fire. As the vehicle was on the position of Alex's location, "I am Alex Semele, and see you guys in hell...!"

He ran out of his cover, followed by gunshots, but what he did was astonishing on our history. His motion allocated a dreadful and anxious momentum, thrusting himself with his explosive in his hand; however he triggered it, activating his doom. "As everymen for himself, I shall see you in hell!" he barked, making his last breath before a gigantic explosion of death, covering his position. Soldiers died, but the automobile was still maintaining its position, although remained close toward the crossroad. My sympathy descended across my mind; however our focus demanded us to ponder toward our mission.

The machine went onward with a tremendous velocity, routing toward the intersection.

Just as it hopped onto the center of the intersection, its wheel popped alike balloons, which ironically ended an invincible machine toward a mortal death.

"Ok, wheels out! Mortar Squad, fire in the hole!"

"Copy the statement. Mortar Squad, on the go. Fire in the hole, over."

Over few minutes, the air somewhat converted louder, and finally, shells were hit onto the target, concluding its fateful life. "Good job, Mortar Squad."

"Marksmen Team, signing in. Enemies are retreating with their lives. Give 'em the last blow of the day. Push them back!"

"What? No… This can't be over", I whispered.

"Give them the last push, guys!" Rorke demanded once again.

"COME BACK YOU ASSHOLES!" I shouted as I sprinted out from the exit, onward to the main streets. The enemies were exiling the area. They took Jackson's and Alex's life, and I cannot tolerate them in any way. I swore revenge on them, and craved for their death.

They retreated, and our team was left here on the open field. What took us so long to comprehend…?

"Squads, fall back to Point Bravo. This day was enough for our sufferings."

Although we lost lives today, we learned what the occurring called dignity truly intended. We lost lives and craved for death, but what truly scattered my mind was the indication of losing. If we fall down, we die. It is the rule of war, something said with such ignorance. Checkmate…

Supports:

Supports are men who are equipped with a light machinegun, and play an essential role in the art of war. We call them Machine Gunners, as they use weapons as the so called LMG, and are crucial to the portion of supportive fire. They typically acquire loads of ammunition, even able to replenish a whole squad's ammunition load. As what they call, supports are in-depth, truly amazed by the fact of support gunning, making the pass toward the enemy headquarters. In-depth, supports are truly a sense of juggernaut, and crucial toward the conclusion of a whole team.


End file.
